


Perdona que te lo deba decir de esta manera

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Letters, Loss, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Other, Revenge, Storyline setting, this is sad :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: In Flaco's final moments, he writes a letter for you.Gender-neutral reader!
Relationships: Flaco Hernández/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Perdona que te lo deba decir de esta manera

**Author's Note:**

> you know when you enter Flaco's cabin in story mode, and there's a load of letters on his desk? yeah, this fic was based simply around that lol
> 
> Tumblr and Twitter are @MALLR4TS

It's time for your bi-weekly Flaco visit, trudging up the thick snow to see the somewhat retired gunslinger. At first, you traveled up that way just for work, but time and time again you found yourself accidentally riding up there, not for the money, but for Flaco himself.

He definitely has a few screws loose, and that wild personality and borderline cocky attitude makes your heart thump in your chest. He's not as old as he makes himself out to be, as you've yet to notice any grey hairs on him, despite his constant moans that he's turning grey. Truth be told, you'd do anything he asks, even if he asked you to strip your clothing and roll in the snow, though you hope he'd warm you up himself afterward. 

But today, something feels off. The air isn't sitting right, your horse seems constantly spooked, and the elk that pass by you look at you with hollow eyes. It almost feels as if you're being watched, though you know nobody is nearby, or at least, nobody you can see. You can feel a presence in the air, but despite the creepy nature of your journey, your heart remains warm at the thought of seeing Flaco again. 

Maybe today was the day you finally confess how you felt, though you're certain he already knows this. He's made a handful of flirtatious comments towards you, even outright telling you he's seen the way you look at him. If this man didn't feel the same way, and he was only doing all this to be a tease, then not only will your heart break, but you'll swear off falling for anybody ever again. Nobody will ever make you feel the way Flaco makes you feel. 

You finally come over the little hill that dips down to Carin Lake and the first thing you notice is red. Blood has been shed, and his men are covered in it, lying in the snow with their own pool surrounding them. Your eyes flick over to the cabin and- oh, oh god, please no. 

With a kick of your spurs, your horse bolts down the hill, their hooves thudding against the ice, nickering as you tug on the reins a little too harsh and bring them to a halt. Tears have already begun to fall from your eyes, but the floodgates burst open as you see the horror that has been left for you. 

Flaco lays on his back, dead, with bullet holes deep in his chest. His eyes are shut, and for once, he isn't scowling. He seems bittersweetly peaceful; at least one of you seems relaxed. You practically jump from your horse, collapsing onto your knees as you mourn him, taking his cold hand in yours as you rest against his chest. 

He's not been gone for long, as his skin is still cold but his body isn't frozen. You cry into him, face buried into his thick fur coat. You pray that he'll wrap his arms around you any minute now, just like how he did when you broke down in front of him that one time. He let you cry into his chest, cradling you as he hushed you. He spent the evening listening to your worries, eventually cuddling you to sleep as your tears had drained all the energy from you.

Flaco's not coming back and you have to accept that. He's gone. The terror of the Grizzlies lies dead before you, his hand on your lap as you mourn for him. 

You finally lift your head from him, your eyes flicking up to the sun as she begins to set behind the mountains. Curse whatever was in the sky that allowed this to happen, and curse whoever did this to him. He may be an outlaw, a gunslinger, a man on the run, but you'd never met someone with such loving eyes, such gentle hands, and such a way with words. If only you had confessed your feelings a little sooner, maybe he wouldn't be lying dead beneath you. 

You shake your head, not allowing your thoughts to try and convince you that this was your fault. It isn't, and you promise you'll get revenge. 

Finally, you stand, taking deep breaths as a few final tears find their escape. Burying is a hard option with all this snow, so you decide to rest Flaco a different way. You enter his cabin, propping open the door with a crate as you look around one last time. Your eyes fall onto his chair and you can picture him in it now, leaning back against it with that smug grin on his face as he tells you what your job is for the day. 

There were so many opportunities where you could have simply sat on his lap, a bold move for you, but Flaco's eyes would have lit up as he pulled you onto him more. You shake your head again, trying to not cloud your thoughts with things that could have been. This is where you are, this is the life that the Gods have given you, and it's about time you took your own path into your hands to prevent anything like this from happening again. 

You take a look around, something that you've done subtly before, but now you finally had the chance to study where Flaco had been living for all these months. His bed looks untouched, duvet folded neatly over it, the exact way you folded it when you rested here last. The fire has only recently died out, a sight you thought you'd never see as Flaco always kept it going. The table by his chair is ready to collapse, with so many holes and scratch marks dug into it from where his knife had stabbed it time and time again. 

What's this? You've never seen the small stack of letters on Flaco's table before. The handwriting is a little scruffy, as if the person writing it was rushing. Your eyes flick to the top and your stomach drops as you see your name written there. It's a letter from Flaco. 

_'Dear ___, My most trusted employee, as I once called you, only I know I will never be able to speak to you again._

_If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. I only know that because if I survive, I'll tell you this myself and throw this letter into the fire before you get here. I can hear gunshots from my men outside, and something in my gut tells me that I won't live to see the outcome of this._

_I pray this letter finds you, as my dying wish. I'm such a fool for not telling you this sooner, I missed so many opportunities where I could have, but I feared that you'd never want to waste your years with me - a retired gunslinger who's been forgotten about by the world. The only thing that seemed to remember me was the bears waiting outside my cabin, but you waltzed in one day and it seems that finally, somebody began to remember me._

_I thought you were nothing more than a stranger looking for work at first, and though I was tempted to have you with that pretty face of yours, I didn't want to scare you off. You came back, time and time again, and although you used the excuse of looking for work, I knew you were looking for my company. I'm glad you were, because I yearned for yours. I've had far too many sleepless nights thinking about you, praying you'd return to me, waiting up till the early hours in hopes of hearing your horses' hooves trot over the ice._

_Like I said, I'm a fool for not telling you this sooner. I can't believe I'm having to write a letter, it should be me telling you this, not this piece of paper._

_Amor, I can't describe how I feel about you, though I know you feel the same. I wish I could have spent my final years with you in my arms, but it seems my years have been cut short by this cabrón knocking at my door. He's shouting at me to come out again, so I guess I must._

_Perdona que te lo deba decir de esta manera - sorry that I should tell you this way. I hope that we find each other in another life, and this time, I'll finally have the  
cajones to tell you how I feel. _

_Forever yours, even in death - Flaco Hernández'_

The tears continue to flow, and your stomach feels like it's about to throw your dinner up any second now. You take a seat in his chair, sobbing into your hands as you cry on the table. You were both fools for not admitting it sooner, but at least you know now that he feels the same way - all those tender looks and gentle touches meant something, and you treasure them even more now you know the feelings behind them. 

You take your time, mourning even more. You pray that today wasn't going to get any worse, though you're pretty certain you're at the very bottom of this hell pit. Once you feel somewhat stable enough, you stand, tucking Flaco's letter into your inner coat pocket, the one sewn beside your heart.

It takes a lot of strength to drag Flaco's corpse into his cabin, resting him in the center. Though you feel a little odd looting his weapons, you know he would have gifted them to you if he saw you in his final moments. His knife is far too big for you, barely fitting in your belt as you sheath it. The bastard that murdered him had the nerve to loot his custom revolver, his most prized possession. He's told you many stories about the adventures he's had with that gun, purchasing it from a young age, and taking care of it ever since. You swear you'll find it and shoot the bastard that murdered Flaco with it. 

His sawn-off shotgun is in his other holster. Though it's not customized, it has his initials carved neatly into the grip. You remove one of your guns as you stand, holstering Flacos shotgun and placing your other gun into your horses saddlebags, making sure the safety lock was turned on. You remove enough bottles of liquor to kill a man and return to the cabin. 

After removing Flacos bandoliers and equipping them yourself, along with his belt, you place his duvet over his body, placing a kiss to his forehead as you say your goodbyes. You coat his cabin in alcohol, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to do. His men get the same treatment, placing their blankets over them respectfully as you cover their camp. 

Flaco's sombrero comes into your line of sight. You remove your current hat and place his on, though it's a little big for you. Your hat is placed into your horses saddlebags before you mount them. 

Once you're stood far enough from the mess, you equip your bow, setting the arrow alight and firing it at Flaco's cabin. The building bursts into flames, your horse whaling and stamping their feet in fear, though you calm them and back them up a little bit more. Another fire arrow meets his men's camp, and you watch for a minute as everything you love burns, falling apart in front of your eyes. 

Finally, you turn and leave, looking over your shoulder one last time as you cross that hill. You swear that you'll find the bastard that did this, you swear it on your own life, and it seems you're in luck, as horse tracks appear as you approach Colter. Of course, you follow them, ready to interrogate the stranger that it leads to.


End file.
